Derived
by smellofthewild
Summary: A one shot on Ganondorf's last thoughts before his execution. Not within any specific storyline. Cover art belongs to Blue and Orange on Tumblr.


**_Derived: (v.) to trace from a source or origin_**_  
_

Dishonored. Dethroned. Banished. Any and all could be applied to the former king, Ganondorf. He knew he would never be welcomed back into the desert he had been fighting for, and the loss of his home shamed him.

The ideal he had been striving for was not one of his people, but he had felt, he had _known_, if he could simply give them a taste of the luxury the spoiled Hylians had, they would want what he wanted too. They would fight with him not only in body, but in mind and heart. For all it was worth, he wanted to see him and his warrior sisters standing tall over the corpse of that piteous Hylian princess. Not staring into her pale face that knew no harsh wind and unrelenting sun, that never knew the battle for survival in an environment that all but welcomed you, her thin, colored lips smirking at him in victory.

She had called him savage, boarish, and so what if he was? That was what was respected among his sisters. The ability to hunt, feed one's mother and sisters, to strive for the honour of the Gerudo, and to face the desert again, each morning with pride at their home, Mother of the strongest life.

He noted that was perhaps where he made his first mistake. When he stopped taking pride in the land Din had forged with her arms of fire, with the intent that only a proud, fierce race such as the Gerudo could survive there. When he began to covet the green fields and pure running rivers of Hyrule, their wooden furnishings, intricately carved and very nearly useless, their ornate robes that used countless bolts of fabric, more than his mother and sisters could have ever spared. When he had coveted even their names, the damned Hylians even had more of those than he found necessary.

So when the late king had wanted an audience with the new king of the desert people, the young, nervous boy he had been, barely of age, just passing his Gerudo test of manhood, which lead to kinghood, had given himself another name. _Ganondorf Dragmire_. The king of Hyrule had seemed mildly amused by a man of the desert taking such a name, but he had said nothing of it to the much younger ruler.

Ganondorf widened his eyes in realization that must've been when he had first met the princess. She had only been a wide eyed whelp then, and even as a young man he had felt a contempt towards her. She had never known, and probably never will a cold night lost in the desert, an empty stomach, or the attack of predators at a blessed oasis when all she wanted was a drink to quench her burning throat, and to wash the sand from her eyes. He had scoffed at the idea of her even getting sand in her eyes.

Even now, in front of him with a thin rapier, eyes glacial and cruel, she seemed contemptuously innocent in a gaudy dress with frills and petticoats. He derived a small satisfaction that she seemed to be attempting to hide her body from him.

Being surrounded by women all his life, he was quite familiar with them, and it was in his sisters' nature to bear their bodies proudly, so naturally he was not unmanned easily at the sight of a beautiful woman. The princess might have been beautiful in another time, in the way she was the physicality of the ideal he had envied for many years, everything that had led him to betray his beloved desert, but facing her meant death now.

"A beautiful wraith," He murmured with a rueful smile to himself.

The princess heard the dark man and stiffened, a look of grim indifference on her porcelain features. "I am no wraith, I am your executioner."

"All the same, delivering death," He smirked up at her from his place kneeling on the floor, hands chained behind his back. She flinched at the accusation, but tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. "It will be a shame when my blood spatters and stains such a _carefully_ chosen dress though, Princess."

"Enough." She took a step back, revealing a council of complacent, elderly advisors. The dark king made an annoyed sound at their presence, he found them unnecessary.

Formalities. This war was lost, his rule over, shamed, it was time for his life to be ended. Gerudo tradition would have called for death anyway, at this level of dishonor it was inevitable.

"Ganondorf Dragmire, former king of the Gerudo, you have been found guilty of these crimes. The murder of the late king, and the attempted overthrow of Hyrule, subsequently breaking the alliance between the Gerudo and Royal Family. The attempted collection of the sacred power of the Triforce, the gift of the Goddesses, not to mention the countless murders caused by this three year war, all instigated by you. The sentence is death."

The only expression the princess made at the reading of the verdict was at the mention of her father, she scowled for a mere second, and it was gone. Ganondorf had caught it though. _Not so innocent_, he noted as he formed a scowl of his own.

"Ganon." He stated simply. "That is the name I will die by as it was the name I was born with."

"Very well," One advisor intoned, slightly patronizing. "Ganon, you have been sentenced to death."

Was it some ritual that the princess, as the sole heir, slay him herself, or had she requested it, he wondered offhandedly. He was a deadman, he chuckled, he would never know.

The princess moved towards him once more, rapier moving with her, it was a lethal extension of her deceptively thin arm. "Last words?" She asked lifelessly, as if this was only a formality. Typical Hylians, it probably was.

He decided it would be fitting to say a Gerudo death prayer. He lowered his eyes to the marble floor, then closed them, imagining sand instead.

"_May this body return to the sand that bore it, and it's soul to our goddess Din, who receives her people at the gates of death. May this death not be forgotten by our sisters, and its life rejoiced and celebrated. So is the desert's will a mother returns a child to our Mother_." He recited it in his native Gerudo tongue, the inflection dancing and the words achingly familiar.

He knew his body would not return to the sand, his life not celebrated, not even by his mother, but his death would be remembered, as a curse upon his people. All that was left was for him to return to Din and hope the Goddess who had granted him this "blessed" power would receive him with her open arms, the source of all Power. He wondered if he never heard the answers to his prayers because he did not have the pointed ears of the Hylians, said to be for the very purpose of hearing the Goddesses.

Ganon laughed then, the irony of his life striking him. An entire lifetime spent wishing for more than the desert, the endless blue sky, and his own people, came down to him saying his last words in his native tongue and thinking thoughts of home. He indulged on thoughts of a second chance, another life to rule his people to honor and prosperity through the maintaing of their culture. Wishful thinking. Second lives were for those _divine_ Hylians.

"If that is all," In one motion Zelda had stabbed upwards through his chest and into his heart.

The Gerudo man choked on blood welling in his throat. The princess of Hyrule met his eyes. She backed away in horror, seeing what he saw behind his eyes, in his mind.

A demon, pure hatred, pulling his own soul with the dying king's to another realm entirely, one that was not the death he had been waiting for.

The red haired man spoke one last word before the life left his body, in the language of the Gerudo. It wasn't until a few weeks later that Zelda found a an old, barely used yet mildewy book of the Gerudo language that held the word. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what last word the once great Gerudo king uttered was.

_Demise_.


End file.
